<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Burned Bridges by Guardy</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29763372">Burned Bridges</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guardy/pseuds/Guardy'>Guardy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Thing About The Hat [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Emergency! (TV 1972)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Mike tries to figure out the hat thing, minor angst on Hank's part, vaguely fluffy i guess</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:09:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,046</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29763372</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guardy/pseuds/Guardy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hank is a competent fireman, an excellent captain, and a genuinely nice and fundamentally kind person. In Mike's opinion, the man is basically god's gift to the fire service, but nobody's ever actually <i>asked</i>, so he hasn't really said it, not in so many words. Hank's also just a little odd, though - and no matter how good he is at working around it, and no matter how much <i>Mike</i> was hoping that Hank would figure this one out on his own, every man has his limits. Apparently, coping with Chief McConnike is firmly outside of <i>Hank's</i>.</p>
<p>And that's how Mike ends up standing out in the engine bay with the Chief himself one day, trying to get to the bottom of the thrice-damned Hat Thing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hank Stanley &amp; Mike Stoker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Thing About The Hat [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2146968</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Burned Bridges</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The last part of the little trilogy about Hank and Mike dealing with McConnike's continued existence.</p>
<p>Further notes down at the end because putting them up front would probably spoil the fic too much, lol - but I can promise you that this is not a particularly grim or angsty fic.</p>
<p>As per usual, you can find the original post plus Extra Authentic Typewriter Version <a href="https://johnnys-green-pen.tumblr.com/post/644359535126085632/e-fan-fic-burned-bridges">over here on my E! sideblog</a>.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mike Stoker considered himself a patient man, and he’d never been prone to impulsiveness or ill-advised, rash decisions. At least until the day he’d found Hank Stanley huddled in his office looking like he’d seen a ghost - or become one himself - after his latest encounter with one Chief McConnike. Nothing had happened, really, except Hank had made one of his usual dry comments, full of charm and wit, and McConnike had looked at him like he’d grown a second head until Hank freaked out and bolted from the room, blank panic on his face and a terribly transparent excuse on his lips.</p>
<p>Mike had glared at the chief and gone after Hank, sat with him in his office and listened to the man go on and on about his doomed career and all the ways McConnike was going to ruin him and his whole entire life. And he’d looked at his shaking hands and hunched shoulders and the way the man had curled in on himself, and decided that this simply could not go on like that. He’d originally hoped that more frequent contact with the chief would make his friend’s odd phobia mellow out a little, but that clearly hadn’t happened, and he couldn’t let the man psych himself out about something as basic as interacting with the battalion chief forever. If anybody had asked, he’d have said that it was just because Hank’s panic was putting everybody else on edge, and while this was completely true (and Johnny, nervous, was a particularly unmanageable pain in the ass), it would also have been complete and utter bullshit, he knew that, and he didn’t care. </p>
<p>Anyway, as soon as Mike was sure that Hank wouldn’t do anything too stupid, he patted the man on the shoulder and left the room without further comment. Hank just wanly smiled at him when he turned around and closed the door, but otherwise didn’t really react - a pretty good indicator that Hank had no idea what he was planning. </p>
<p>Mike didn’t have to search very hard to find McConnike - he was aimlessly wandering around the engine bay, looking surprisingly concerned - maybe even a little sad. Either way, not exactly the expression Mike had expected, even though he wasn’t sure what he <em>had</em> been expecting, either. The chief walked up to Mike - also unexpected - and then just stood there for a moment, silently, before rubbing a hand over his face and blinking. He sighed.</p>
<p>“How is he?” he asked.</p>
<p>The question eased Mike’s worry about what he was about to do, but his mouth still set into a grim line. </p>
<p>“He’ll live,” he simply said. </p>
<p>“Ah.”</p>
<p>“Chief McConnike,” Mike said after a moment of hesitation, “may I… may I ask you a question?” </p>
<p>The man just looked at him, a long, stern, calm sort of look, like he’d expected Mike to talk to him.</p>
<p>Mike cleared his throat. “It may be personal,” he added.</p>
<p>The chief nodded slowly. “You may,” he said, “but I can’t guarantee that I’ll answer.”</p>
<p>Good enough, Mike figured.</p>
<p>“What did you do to-” Mike began, paused, started over. “I mean, what happened between you and Hank Stanley?”</p>
<p>A short pause. Then: “Why do you want to know?”</p>
<p>“Because he’s my friend,” Mike said without even thinking about it, before adding: “And I worry about him.”</p>
<p>The chief’s stern gaze pierced right through him, and he felt uncomfortably <em>seen</em> for just a moment, before McConnike simply nodded. </p>
<p>“Glad to hear it,” he said, presumably meaning ‘glad to hear Hank has friends’, or maybe just the simple fact that somebody cared enough about Hank to worry, though Hank himself would’ve probably understood it as ‘glad that I messed up the guy who burned my hat enough that people have reason to worry about him’ again. Oh, the things Mike had to put up with sometimes…</p>
<p>“So,” Mike said. “Will you tell me?”</p>
<p>The chief sighed. </p>
<p>“There isn’t much to say, really,” he said, “but yes, I’ll tell you everything I know.”</p>
<p>“Everything you <em>know</em>?” Mike asked.</p>
<p>“Yes, well, you see… Hank was already - well, like he is now when I first met him. He was skittish, nearly bolted every time I tried to talk to him outside of runs. Damned good engineer, though, of course. Calm under pressure, level-headed, and kind to a fault. I always knew he’d make a damn fine captain one day.”</p>
<p>“He is,” Mike stated.</p>
<p>“I know,” McConnike replied, without a moment of hesitation. “That isn’t the point, though - the point is, I guess something must’ve happened to him, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d had a nasty experience with a former captain or something along those lines, but I never asked and he never told me. I just tried to do what I could for him and eventually I managed to get him settled a little. He still got that deer-in-the-headlights look sometimes, but all in all he was doing fine. He was even starting to develop a sense of humor around me - dry as the Sahara desert, of course, but a sense of humor nonetheless.”</p>
<p>“So, what happened?” Mike asked.</p>
<p>A moment of silence. Then, a bone-deep sigh.</p>
<p>“I screwed up,” the Chief said, very matter-of-fact. “I…” he paused, chuckled mirthlessly. “You ever heard of the Hat Thing?”</p>
<p>Mike nodded. “Calm, level-headed Engineer Hank Stanley decided one day to take Captain McConnike’s hat out to the parking lot,” he recited, “where he then poured lighter fluid over it and set it on fire in a clear but inexplicable case of arson.”</p>
<p>“That’s the gist of it,” the Chief agreed with a nod, “except it’s missing a few details. Why he did it, for instance.”</p>
<p>“You <em>know</em> why he did it?” Mike asked, genuinely surprised.</p>
<p>McConnike waved his hand in a sort of vaguely dismissive gesture. “Of course I do; if I hadn’t known, I would’ve been a lot more apprehensive about Hank getting his promotion later on. No, no, there was a reason. Not sure if it was a good one, but… well, it was logical enough, I suppose. From a certain point of view.”</p>
<p>Mike raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for him to continue.</p>
<p>“Well, it had been a slow winter,” the chief began to explain, “and we hadn’t needed our hats in a while. Couple of weeks, I reckon. Until the day there was a surprise inspection and we had about twenty minutes to get our station sorted out because some kind soul had tipped us off. Except a pipe just above the closet we’d kept our hats in had sprung a bit of a leak, and when I went to get my hat, there was a great big spot of mold on top of it.” A mildly amused huff. “It looked well and truly <em>rank</em>. The Chief was mere minutes away. There was really only one thing I could think of doing, and so I went to grab some white paint to paint over the stain. I think Hank just about fainted when he figured out what I was about to do, and while I was still trying to find that damned can of paint, he took my hat and lit it on fire to… gently dissuade me from going through with it.”</p>
<p>Mike couldn’t quite suppress a chuckle - he’d seen Hank overreact to inspections more times than he could count, and could picture his “gentle dissuasion” with perfect clarity.</p>
<p>McConnike grinned and nodded, before continuing on: “In retrospect, I think it’s hilarious, and it was probably for the best - I just told ‘em my hat had been lost to a fire and I hadn’t had the time to get a new one yet, and cleanly got away with it - but at the time I admit I panicked and blew up at Hank, lost my patience for just one moment, and set us back right to square one. Worse, maybe.”</p>
<p>“Probably,” Mike said. It was blunt and maybe cruel, especially in light of what he’d just learned, but he couldn’t help some latent pettiness. “He thinks you’re playing the long game waiting for just the right opportunity to get your revenge.”</p>
<p>McConnike looked as if he’d bitten into a lemon. “Still?” he asked. </p>
<p>“Still,” Mike replied. He fell silent for a moment, and then cocked his head. “Were there ever any consequences for the hat burning?” he asked.</p>
<p>“Of course not,” McConnike replied, incredulous. “I tried to apologize, actually, more than once.”</p>
<p>“That’ll do it.”</p>
<p>“Do it - do what?”</p>
<p>“Hank can’t believe he got off completely scot-free and is still waiting for the other shoe to drop, I think. He expected consequences, and to him, if they never happened, you’re clearly just biding your time.”</p>
<p>The chief’s eyebrows rose higher and higher as he mulled it over.</p>
<p>“That… that makes some twisted kind of sense, I suppose,” he slowly said. “However did you think of that?”</p>
<p>Mike shrugged. “I’ve been looking out for the man for quite a while now,” he said, “and we have another one who kind of… is kind of similar, in some ways.”</p>
<p>“Gage?”</p>
<p>“Exactly.”</p>
<p>“But he didn’t seem very…”</p>
<p>“He’s got Hank and DeSoto looking out for him - and actually the rest of the shift, too,” Mike simply said. He thought about what he’d learned for a moment, then added: “But if you know how Hank reacts to you and if you actually care about him, why do you keep taking any excuse to drop by?”</p>
<p>A sheepish look. The chief cleared his throat and looked everywhere but at Mike for just one second, before he sighed.</p>
<p>“I was… well, I was hoping he’d warm up to me again. I was… I was so proud when he got his own station. I just want him to <em>know</em>. I want the old Hank back.”</p>
<p>“Well,” Mike said, “I don’t think it’s wor-”</p>
<p>And then the door to the Captain’s office opened and out stepped Hank Stanley, looking shaky and thoroughly miserable, and freezing up the second he laid eyes on McConnike. </p>
<p>Mike and the Chief shared a long look. Then, McConnike cleared his throat.</p>
<p>“Ah, Hank,” he said, “I was just talking to Stoker here -” Mike’s best ‘hey, leave me out of that mess’-face went sadly ignored - “and I remembered something - I think you still owe me a hat.”</p>
<p>A long, stifling silence. Then, a very quiet “but you’re not a captain anymore, you wouldn’t even be able to wear it…”</p>
<p>McConnike looked over at Mike, who indicated the barest hint of a shrug.</p>
<p>“They make hats for Battalion Chiefs, too, you know,” the chief said after a short pause. “And think about it, that way I could be sure that I’ll never be caught without a hat again.”</p>
<p>Hank blinked at him, seemingly too confused to be scared. It was progress, in a way.</p>
<p>The Chief smiled. “You were right about the paint, by the way,” he added. “I never would’ve managed to cake it on thick enough to cover the entire spot, it would’ve been a disaster. It just took me a while to realize it.”</p>
<p>Hank threw him That Look, the deeply suspicious one with the narrowed eyes and the thick eyebrows drawn together, but then he relaxed, just a bit.</p>
<p>“A new hat?” he asked. “That’s all?”</p>
<p>“Look, nobody ever punished <em>me </em>for being one hat short of a full uniform, so I figured having you replace what you burned would be fair.”</p>
<p>Hank seemed to think about that and then, miraculously, he nodded. It still seemed a little wary, guarded, but even Mike could tell that he seemed more at ease already. Fixing what had been broken so long ago wouldn’t be instant, but at least it might, in fact, be possible. </p>
<p>And then Hank asked “do you want me to drop the hat off at your office, or do you want to pick it up the next time you’re in the neighborhood?” and the Chief’s face lit up in a broad grin. </p>
<p>“I’ll pick it up,” he said. “Gives me a chance to get some decent coffee while I’m at it.”</p>
<p>Mike suppressed a derisive snort - decent coffee? At <em>this</em> station? Perish the thought - but smiled a quiet smile anyway. Maybe, things would truly be alright after all.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks to Madilayn for making this one happen even without an outright prompt by making me realize that my one stray thought of "huh, I really can't see McConnike being as much of a demon as he's generally assumed to be, he seems genuinely fond of Cap" was maybe not just a fluke. I'm not exactly sure how I got a whole fic trilogy from that, but I'm sure as hell not going to complain when things fall into place like that, especially because this was also super fun to write and gave me a whole new appreciation for Mike. </p>
<p>(my first thought about why Hank burned the hat was actually "nest of spiders inside" but I figured that would've been a reaction so utterly reasonable that not even Hank could've angsted about it. Besides, I'm somehow too much of a sap to hurt <i>fictional spiders</i>; go figure)</p>
<p>And as always, I really can't thank you all enough for reading my fics and commenting and leaving kudos and all that jazz - I still can't quite believe my luck, and I hope you're having as much fun with these as I am.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>